The Calm After the Storm
by TheTBone
Summary: When a thunderstorm rattles the house, and the twins' emotions, as man of the house, Brandon steps up. He has the situation completely under control - when he gets a little help from Stef and Lena, that is...Pre-pilot. Oneshot.


**I don't own The Fosters. I know, shocking, isn't it?**

The thunder roared and the raindrops cracked against the windowpanes, rocking the whole house. There wasn't anything much louder than a California rainstorm in the middle of a hot and humid summer night.

Mariana sat wide awake in her bed, her back pressed against her wooden headboard as hard as she could. She held her knees tightly to her chest, curling herself up into the smallest little ball she could manage. She quivered and shivered as the storm outside raged on, jerking ever-so-slightly at every glance of lightning that pierced through the sky. She never should have agreed to this.

This was the first night she was spending in her own room. All the nights before this one, for the past three or four months or so, she had been shacking up on the floor in Jesus' room. She had always felt a little bad for doing it. After all, after the first week Lena and Stef had ditched the air mattresses and invested in real beds for both of the twins, and given them their own bedrooms as well. It was unusual for them to have their own real beds – usually their foster parents opted to give them a shared, dilapidated, partially deflated air mattress, a sleeping bag, or in especially cruel cases, nothing at all – and they'd certainly never had their own private rooms before. It wasn't uncommon for them to be cramped in a bedroom half the size of their rooms now with two or three other foster kids.

It's not that she didn't appreciate having a room to herself, it was just that she was much more comfortable having Jesus there. And, try as she might, she still couldn't bring herself to fully trust the Fosters yet. She didn't really have any reason not to. After all, they'd been nothing but nice to her. They'd never given her a reason not to trust them. Maybe it was just out of habit. She couldn't imagine anyone really caring about her or her brother. Was she right to think that? Or was she being unfair? Was something wrong with her because she didn't trust them or was this how she was meant to feel?

The thunder boomed another time, sending the room trembling once again. Mariana grabbed her knees tighter and buried her head in her lap. She wasn't sure how much more she could take. She had always hated thunderstorms. She bit her lip until she could taste a little blood, and figured she should stop, instead turning her attention to picking little balls of fuzz off her blanket. She didn't know what to do. She had promised she would stay in her own room tonight. After all, she figured that since Lena and Stef had spent so much money on the bed and the room she should use it for something other than storing her minimal, yet recently growing, amount of personal things.

She didn't think they'd be angry with her. They weren't pressuring her to sleep in here per se; it was more of a gentle suggesting. Light prodding with comments like 'I bet you'd sleep more comfortably on a real mattress' or 'Jesus and we are both just right down the hall if you'd need us.' She really wished she could make them happy. She wanted nothing more than to be strong enough to just make it through the night alone, but she was failing. As the house rattled, so did she, shaking like a vulnerable leaf. A single tear escaped from her eye and she sniffled, twisting around to hop off the bed.

Maybe she was wrong to have so much faith in them. Maybe they would be angry after all for leaving her room, but at this point, she didn't really care. Nothing they could do to her would be worse than sitting all alone, her imagination starting to conjure up the most terrifying nightmares in her dark and loud room.

She scampered down the hallway to Jesus' room, opening the door as quietly as she could. She was thankful the doors didn't screech like they did at some of her old houses. She ran over to Jesus' bed, tapping him on the shoulder.

"Jesus, wake up," she whispered loudly, shaking his shoulder.

Jesus awoke immediately, his eyes popping open. "What is it? What's wrong? Are you hurt?" he asked, sitting straight up, as attentive as he would be if it were three in the afternoon. In his experience, Mariana waking him up in the middle of the night never meant anything good.

"I'm okay," she reassured him. She suddenly felt bad for waking him. Why should he have to be awake just because she was? All of a sudden she felt selfish and stupid and weak. It was just a thunderstorm. What's the worst that could happen? Jesus was probably happy she was in her own room, that way he could get some privacy and she wouldn't be bothering him all the time. It always seemed like she was holding him back. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"It's okay," he said. "But what's wrong?"

Just then another clap of thunder shattered through the air, sending Mariana jumping about three feet in the air, and scaring Jesus a little as well.

"Oh, the storm," Jesus said, a little quiver in his voice. He wasn't the biggest fan of thunderstorms either. Not that he'd ever admit it. After all, he was tough and he had to be strong for Mariana. She was always strong for him when it came to the real stuff, the stuff that mattered, the stuff bigger and scarier than thunderstorms.

"You want to sleep in here?" he asked. "You can have my bed if you want, I'll take the floor," he offered.

"No that's okay," Mariana said. "I should probably go back to my own room anyway. I don't want Stef and Lena to get mad if they check and I'm not in there."

Jesus frowned. They didn't seem like the type of people who would care about that. At the very least, Mariana sleeping in his room wasn't bothering anybody, and he didn't think they would be ones to get angry about something as trivial as that. Still, Mariana had always been the smart one, so maybe she had a point.

He looked over at her in order to gauge a reaction, and he knew he couldn't let her go back in there alone. She looked terrified. And last time there'd been a big storm like this she had had a terrible nightmare and wet the bed, and the consequences of that weren't pretty. Jesus couldn't let that happen again – that was more likely to get her in trouble. Jesus squinted, trying to figure out a clever solution, a thought suddenly popping into his head.

"I know, what about if I just come sleep in your room with you?" Jesus suggested.

Mariana considered this. It kind of defeated the whole purpose, but it was a loophole, and it could definitely work as long as they weren't called out for 'being no more than a couple of little smartasses.' Being called that was usually the prelude to landing in a lot of trouble and punishments.

"You can have my bed," Mariana offered, her way of agreement.

"And sleep under a bunch of girly pink sheets? I don't think so. No way," Jesus smiled, trying to get Mariana to do the same.

Instead he was met with a serious expression and a worried look. "Actually, could we maybe share the bed? I just…I would feel better having you there," she said sheepishly.

"Oh, yeah," Jesus hurriedly corrected. "Yeah, sure. I mean pink can be a boy color too I mean I think one time Tony Hawk wore pink kneepads and they looked pretty wicked sweet."

Mariana gave a slight smile, though it was more from relief than from Jesus' lame attempts at rambling jokes.

The twins got up from the bed and were about to make their way to Mariana's room when they heard a door slowly creak open. They both froze in panic, their eyes wide and fear-filled. They were both surprised and relieved to see Brandon peek out from his door.

"Hey, why are you guys awake?" he asked tiredly, his hair suffering from a serious case of bed head.

Mariana and Jesus looked at each other. They both liked Brandon. Neither had a problem with him. He was always really nice to them, usually willing to share his toys and even occasionally help them with some homework. As far as foster siblings went, he was definitely one of the best.

Still, they weren't sure how much they could trust him. After all, he wasn't one of them. He was a biological kid, so he didn't have to worry about stuff like they did. He didn't have to worry about getting kicked out or being unwanted. This would always be his home no matter what. He had not one, not two, but three parents when they had none. He just couldn't understand what they had to go through, no matter how hard he tried. Still, that wasn't his fault any more than having no one was theirs, so maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

"What's the matter?" Brandon inquired, stepping towards them. The twins were acting kind of strange. Not that they didn't always act a little strange, but they were acting especially weird. They were up in the middle of the night for no apparent reason and they weren't talking to him.

As if on cue, yet another sound of thunder echoed through the foundations, sending all three children's hearts into a skip.

"Is it the storm?" he asked. Mariana and Jesus nodded slightly, to which Brandon responded by puffing out his chest slightly. He got this. He could handle it. His little siblings were in trouble, and it was up to him to be tough and take care of them. He was the man of the house. He wasn't scared of anything and nothing could stop him. He had this all under control.

"You guys can come in my room if you want," he said, taking charge and ushering them into his room. Mariana and Jesus only hesitated slightly before taking his lead and stepping inside. Their chances of getting in trouble with a biological kid were significantly lower, and they didn't know what else to do. Brandon was a little older than them, and he seemed sincere. Maybe he could help them fix this.

"The thunder can be pretty scary," Brandon said, shutting the door to his room. He looked around nervously. He probably should've thought of a plan before he decided he was smart enough to take control of this.

Mariana and Jesus stared at him blankly, nodding slightly in agreement, as if out of obligation.

Brandon bit his lip and rubbed his hands, looking around the room for inspiration, as if the walls could give him the right words to say, direct him and show him the right thing to do. He spied his keyboard on the desk.

"Sometimes music takes my mind off things. I could play something for you if you wanted," he offered.

Jesus shrugged. "Okay, if you think it'll work." It was worth a shot.

"Okay," Brandon smiled, leading them over to his keyboard. "Here, I'm going to plug the headphones in so I don't wake my moms up. You can each have one of the ears so you can both hear it," he instructed, showing them how to position the earphones so they fit around both their heads just right. "I'm not that good yet, but music is music, right?" he said, sitting down on his desk chair and painstakingly began to play the best renditions he could of 'Mary Had a Little Lamb,' 'Joy to the Word,' and 'Hot Cross Buns.'

It worked for awhile. The twins' stoic, panicked faces melted away and were replaced with a happier demeanor. Jesus even pretended to play air guitar during of the songs, making Mariana giggle and do a little dance as well. Pretty soon all three of the children's minds were far away from the storm and the fear and the feelings like they didn't fit it.

That is, until the hardest boom of thunder yet jolted them out of their peace. All the headphones and the pianos in the world weren't loud enough to drown out the sound, and the fact that it was unexpected made it even worse.

Mariana jumped up from the chair and ran to the corner, curling herself up in the same little ball to which she was accustomed. Jesus ran over to comfort her, like he did many times before. It freaked Brandon out a little, seeing this routine occur so naturally. Even though he was young and innocent, not having seen the darker side of humanity, he knew something wasn't right with that. Something was off. And all he could do was stand there, dumbfounded and fresh out of ideas. Maybe it was time to call in the experts. Maybe calling in the experts was what he was meant to do all along – act as a mediator. Lena always said that asking for help was one of the bravest things you could do.

Brandon walked over to the twins, who were now huddled on the floor of his bedroom. "Maybe we should go wake moms up," he suggested. "They'll probably know what to do to make it better."

"Won't your moms be mad if we go into their room?" Jesus asked.

"And wake them up? We don't want Stef and Lena angry," Mariana added.

Brandon crinkled his eyebrows in confusion, both at the question and the terms they used. '_Your_ moms.' 'Stef and Lena.' He'd never really noticed it before, but they never called them 'our moms' or even just 'moms.' It's like they didn't think of themselves as part of the family at all. Like he wasn't even their brother at all. It hurt him a little, but decided not to mention it, forcing his mind to shift to their questions rather than their wording.

"Why would they be mad?" he asked with honest puzzlement. He woke his moms up all the time. Sometimes because there was a thunderstorm, sometimes because he had a bad dream, and sometimes just because he woke up and remembered that he had forgotten to tell them this hilarious joke that Aiden had told him at school and if he didn't tell them immediately he'd surely forget it by morning.

"Last time we went in one of our foster parent's rooms, they got really mad," Jesus explained, his voice dropping to a deadened whisper.

"It was really scary," Mariana added, her lip trembling slightly.

"Well moms won't get mad at us, I promise," Brandon said, walking to the door, expecting the twins to follow. He turned around to see them still glued to the floor, frozen in place and unmoving.

He bit his lip, his eyes again searching the room for answers. He was determined to set things right. His eyes fell upon his bed, and it hit him. He knew what he had to do. He walked over and gently picked up the two objects by his pillow, bringing them over to the twins. He crouched down until he was sitting cross-legged, facing them.

"These are my turtles," he said, holding up the small plush sea creatures. "This one's name is Skippy," he said, lifting his right arm slightly to display a green-shelled turtle with a huge smile and sunglasses. "And this one is Sammy," he said, switching to his left arm, a yellow-shelled turtle in his hand. "When I'm scared, I always hug them, and it makes me feel better. Sometimes I even tell them what's wrong. And I guess that probably sounds pretty stupid, but it helps because even though they can't hear it kind of feels like they're listening."

Mariana and Jesus continued to stare at him intently, masked with confusion.

He looked down at his hands and bit his lip. Skippy and Sammy had helped him through a lot. There were many nights when he could hear his parents fighting downstairs and he'd hug them, or watch TV with them after he had to go to court a couple times for something the judge had called a 'custody hearing,' or cry with them that one day his dad had veered off the road a little and he had never been so scared in his whole life. Did he really want to do this? Could he?

He looked up, and he knew that he had to. Knew that he could. He took a deep breath – no backing out now.

"I want you to have them, so you don't have to be scared anymore," he said reaching out his hands to the twins.

"We can't take those from you…" Jesus started.

Brandon cut him off. "I want you to. Really."

Jesus nodded and looked over at Mariana, whose eyes were wide and disbelieving. And just like the day at the police station, when Stef handed them each a lollipop, Jesus took both turtles, handing Sammy over to his sister, and keeping Skippy for himself.

"Thank you," Mariana finally got the courage to whisper.

Brandon smiled. That made it all worth it. "Let's go see moms. And bring the turtles," he instructed, marching them into Stef and Lena's bedroom.

"Pssst," Brandon hissed into Stef's ear, violently shaking her shoulder. "Pssst."

"What. Is. It?" Stef grimaced, questioning in a measured grumble, her face smashed into her pillow. She swore, if Brandon was here for another late-night impromptu comedy show, she might lose it. She was exhausted and thoroughly not in the mood to hear 'knock-knock' uttered a thousand times until he had perfected the joke.

"Mariana and Jesus are scared of the storm," Brandon said in a whisper that was more like a yell since whispering was not one of Brandon's talents or even abilities. The loud whisper, along with Stef rocking the bed when she sat up, stirred Lena as well, and soon enough her partner was awake and alert too.

"What's the matter?" Lena asked concerned, rubbing at her eyes and yawning.

Brandon gestured toward the door, where Mariana and Jesus were standing hesitantly, one foot cautiously through the door and the other remaining in the hallway, each gripping a turtle in their hands.

The latter fact not going unnoticed, Stef cast a surprised stare at Brandon, searching him for more answers, while Lena tended to the children in the doorway.

"You can come in here," she said motioning with her hand, encouraging them to join them in the room. "What's wrong?" she asked, placing a comforting hand on both their shoulders when they finally made their way close enough that she could reach from her sitting position on the bed.

"The storm is just bad," Jesus said carefully, hoping her kindness wasn't a trap. Lena peered out the window. Sure enough, heavy raindrops were falling and lightning streaked across the sky.

"Ugh, you're right," Lena said. "And I don't know about you, but I hate storms. Do you dislike storms too, Mariana?" Lena asked pointedly, rubbing her shoulder with her thumb, already knowing the answer, but coaxing the girl to speak.

Mariana nodded sheepishly. "They're scary," she said, holding Sammy up to her chin, his large shell muffling her mouth and voice as she spoke.

"They are kind of scary, aren't they? But sometimes if you're with other people, it can make them less scary. Isn't that right, Stef?" Lena asked, looking over at her partner to support her in the conversation.

"Oh definitely," she agreed. "It's much easier when you're not alone. And since it seems almost everybody here isn't a big fan of storms, what do you say we all just spend the night together?" she suggested.

"That sounds like a great idea," Lena said. "What do you guys think? Slumber party?" she asked, scooting to the far left and patting the unoccupied space in the middle of the bed.

Jesus helped Mariana climb onto the bed, which was taller than what she was used to, and lied down next to her as Lena comfortingly wrapped a reassuring arm around her. She could tell the girl was still very unsure about the whole situation, and wanted to offer some nonverbal support.

"Brandon? Care to join? We can make room," Lena looked over at her eldest, who was still standing by Stef.

Brandon shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not really that scared of storms." Stef rolled her eyes; she was calling bullshit. She saw right through his tough-guy, masculine act, but decided to humor him.

"Oh but I am," she replied.

Brandon pretended to ponder this. "Well I guess I could stay if you really wanted me to."

"Oh I really want you to, baby. Now that you mention it, this storm is scaring me too, and I'd feel much better if you were here to protect me," she lied.

"Well all right, if it would make you feel better," Brandon said, climbing onto the space next to Stef a little too eagerly and without enough regard to the fact that he was climbing over a real live person with a nervous system that sensed and responded with pain when an individual jammed their foot into their hip.

After Stef had finished wincing and groaning, and the pain in her hip had dulled to a light throb that was surely going to leave a bruise tomorrow, it seemed as if there were all settled in. A few minutes passed, and Stef was sure everyone but her was asleep, and was surprised when she heard a voice next to her.

"I'm sorry for giving them away," Brandon said, suddenly feeling the need to apologize for the re-gifting of Skippy and Sammy, now in his siblings' possession. Though it was true Santa had technically been the one to gift Skippy and Sammy to him, Brandon knew Santa and his mom were pretty tight. He didn't want to insult either of them, and hopefully if they did take offense, his mom could relay the apology to the big guy with the red suit in the North Pole for him.

"That's okay, honey," Stef reassured her son, brushing his hair away from his face. "But why'd you do it? Don't you think you might miss them?" she asked curiously. As proud as she was of Brandon for his random act of kindness, she was equally confused, and slightly concerned. She was afraid his spontaneous generosity would lead to later regret.

Brandon shrugged, "probably a little," he admitted honestly. "But they need them more than I do. They need them so they can feel safe too. You and Lena and daddy make me feel safe, but they don't have any mommies or daddies. They were scared of the storm and of coming in you and mama's bedroom and I thought my animals would make then less scared," he explained. "And you know what, mommy? I think they did," he said, beaming with joy at his accomplishment. Always wiser than his years. Brandon truly was an old soul.

Stef couldn't stop the tear that cascaded down her cheek. She wiped at it quickly, sniffling, trying to hide any evidence of it before Brandon noticed. But of course, being Brandon, he just had to pick up on it.

"Why are you crying?" his eyebrow wrinkled in that tentative way.

"Nothing, B," Stef shook her head and waved him off. "You're just a good brother. A really good brother, B. Did you know that?"

Brandon smiled proudly at the compliment. "You think so?"

"I really think so," Stef said, grinning back at him. "Now, what do you say you be a good son and try and get some sleep, yes?"

Brandon's face dropped slightly at the mention of sleep. Bedtime was not his favorite. However, he decided not to push it. He remembered that she was the main line to Santa, and he didn't want to risk damaging that precious connection.

"Okay," he reluctantly agreed.

Stef stifled a laugh at the dispirited response. Wise beyond his years but still pouting about bedtime at one in the morning. Yup, that was her Brandon.

"Night, B," she whispered, kissing his forehead and flicking the last small lamp off on her nightstand. Now that the twins were asleep, they wouldn't need it.

"Night mommy," he whispered back, snuggling into her side.

Long after she felt her son's breathing slow to sleeping pattern, Stef lay awake in the bed inhabited by five. She glanced to her left. Lena was facing the middle of the bed as well, her arm wrapped protectively around Mariana, who had her head resting gently on her arm. Lena's hand stretched out to reach Jesus' shoulder, who was fanned out smack in the center of the bed. Brandon had flailed out slightly, but was still secure under her own embrace.

The twins each clutched a stuffed turtle tightly in their arms, their grip firm and protective, as if that turtle was a lifeline of some sort, which Stef wouldn't doubt. She squeezed Brandon's shoulder as she reflected on it, getting only a gentle stir in response. God bless that boy. What he did was something she knew she and Lena couldn't have replicated if they tried. They could buy the twins all the stuffed animals in the world – huge, million-dollar ones threaded with silver, stuffed with money with diamonds for eyes, but she knew it still wouldn't be worth nearly as much. It simply wouldn't be the same. These toys were already worn in and loved on the way only a child could love – their fur ragged and matted in some spots. Maybe it was what they needed to finally feel accepted here, to feel like they fit in and belonged.

She took one last look across the line of people, five bodies smashed and squished and pressed up against each other in odd angles. And although she was slipping halfway off the bed, and Brandon's elbow was digging into her ribcage, and Lena and Mariana were selfishly hogging all the blankets, and she was pretty sure she could feel Jesus' ice cold foot creeping closer and closer to her leg, she knew that if given the opportunity, she wouldn't change it for the world.

She blinked, as if taking a mental snapshot, as if to keep this very moment in a scrapbook filed away in her brain, and then closed her eyes for good, letting the sleep take over.

Everyone was finally where they belonged.

**I hope you all liked it! Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays/Happy whatever you celebrate! Reviews would definitely be a great Christmas present for me! :)**

** Shoutouts to justliziam and obsessedatopia for being my beautiful betas!**


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